He began to saunter over toward her, and I knew—knew—he was about to say something inappropriate. I silently prayed he wouldn’t, but what was the use?
“Now that,” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear, “is a sight worth seein’.”
I nearly crushed the spine of my book as I fought the urge to shout at him. Of course, that would do no good. It would onlymake me look mad. But the way he was hovering over Miss Bennet—no gentleman, alive or dead, should behave this way.
“Getawayfrom her,” I whispered, fighting to keep my voice low.
Naturally, he ignored me, stepping closer to Elizabeth, tilting his head like he was admiring some sort of portrait. “Och, she’s got a look, doesnae she? There’s somethin’ in those eyes...”
I clenched my teeth. “I saidget away.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth’s voice broke through my frustration. She was peering at me over the top of her book, a delicate brow arched in confusion. “Did you say something?”
Blast.
My heart almost stopped as I scrambled for an excuse. “Ah... no. Just... reading. Aloud. To myself.”
Her brow arched higher. “I see.” She clearly didn’t, but she went back to her book, though with far more suspicion than before.
Meanwhile, Ewan was practically standing over her now, inspecting her like she was an exhibit at the Royal Academy. He even twirled his finger in a loose spiral of hair until she twitched absently at the tickle of it—as if a draft from the door had swept it aside—and flicked the ringlet back into place herself.
“There’s somethin’ aboot her,” he said softly. “The eyes... aye, reminds me of—”
“Shut up,” I hissed, hoping Elizabeth didn’t hear me this time.
“Mr. Darcy?” she said again, now more curious than confused. “Are you... quite well?”
My mind flailed for something, anything. “Perfectly,” I said, far too quickly. “Just... enjoying my book.”
Her expression told me she was definitely not convinced.
Ewan, naturally, had no sympathy for the situation he was making worse. “Elspeth,” he murmured, completely oblivious to my rising panic. “My Elspeth.”
“Who… what?” I hissed, barely managing to contain myself. Oh, I was not going to stand for this madness! Was he now claiming heknewher? This was too much.
Elizabeth shifted in her chair, her eyes narrowing. “Who what?” she asked, tilting her head like she was trying to catch me in some sort of trap.
I blinked rapidly, trying to think of something clever. “Oh, nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just... reciting something.”
She gave me a long look, clearly suspicious now. I could almost see her calculating how quickly she could leave the room if I started talking to myself again.
Ewan, completely oblivious to the chaos he was causing, leaned in closer to Elizabeth, shaking his head as if marveling at some long-lost memory. “Aye, there’s a fire in her, lad. Just like Elspeth. Ye dinnae see it?”
Oh, so he was not claiming to know her, but that sheremindedhim of someone. That… no, that was not better. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, silently begging for this to end. “She isnotyour Elspeth,” I whispered.
“Ye canna deny it,” he said, ignoring me as usual. “Aye, she’s a bonny one! What’re ye doin’ over there, lad? If ye had even half an eye, ye’d be over here where ye can reach—”
My knuckles were white around my book. “Getawayfrom her!” I muttered, my patience on the verge of snapping entirely.
“Darcy?” Bingley’s voice interrupted the chaos in my head, loud enough to make me flinch. “Something amiss?”
I snapped the book shut, desperately trying to force a calm expression onto my face. “I’m quite well, thank you,” I lied, my voice strained to the breaking point. “Just... deep in thought.”
Bingley gave me a curious look, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. He clearly wasn’t convinced and seemed on the verge of pressing further when Miss Bingley jumped in.
“Oh, Brother,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Mr. Darcy often appears pensive when he is thinking on matters of great importance. His mind is far too noble to be occupied with trivial things. It’s quite natural for him to appear a little distant in company.”
For once, I couldn’t even muster my usual irritation. I shot her a brief, almost grateful glance before returning to the book in my hands. Miss Bingley—defending me. The irony was not lost on me, and yet, at this moment, I’d take any excuse that spared me from further scrutiny.
